TEN

When she heard Chase’s low voice in a clipped conversation as he approached, Regin resumed her customary spot on the floor.

Footsteps closer … closer …

And then he appeared—pale, angry, with his gaze fixed directly ahead. His pupils were dilated—everyone here knew he was on something. And he still sported those same black leather gloves. Rumor held that Chase hated to be touched, wore the gloves to avoid it. Freak.

At his side was Dr. Dixon, the head researcher/dissector. Though Dixon wasn’t a pound-candidate per se—she had an athletic figure and even features—she was no looker either. She had lifeless brown hair, and her oversize glasses were the type that only a supremely confident woman could pull off.

Chase seemed to be half-listening to the woman, answering in monosyllables—while Dixon was visibly lusting over him. The sick mortal two-bit.

When they paused at a cell diagonal to Regin’s, she tried to determine what the woman saw in him.

Regin supposed his thick coal-black hair was nice, and his features were attractive enough. He had a strong chin, defined jawline, and prominent cheekbones with shadowed hollows beneath them. His nose was thin and straight.

He held his broad shoulders erect in a proud military posture, and his soldier garb was pleasingly butch—shined combat boots, a black crewneck pullover with shoulder patches, and camo pants that were fitted around his narrow hips and muscular legs.

All in all, she might turn and check him out if he passed her on the street, but he was nothing like the other magnificent embodiments of Aidan. Not to mention his mental state.

A drugged-up freak of a torture expert? Have at him, Dixon.

In the old language, Natalya murmured, “He’s noticeably gazing away from you. Why do you think that is?”

Regin had expected him to stare at her in confusion, to demonstrate that he’d begun to feel some pull toward her. Instead, he acted as if she didn’t exist.

Which made her bristle. She was always the center of attention. Silent, lethal Lucia had once told her that she loved how Regin always stole the show—because that meant Lucia could go unnoticed in the shadows.

It felt bizarre to be ignored in general, much less by an embodiment of Aidan—who used to stare at her so hard that he’d run into trees.

Answering in the same, Regin said, “How should I know why Chase acts the way he does?”

“Uh-huh.” Natalya clearly sensed that there was more to this than Regin was letting on. “You wouldn’t have noticed, of course, since you’re busy checking out all of him, right down to his tightly muscled back-side.”

“You take that back, fairy.”

“Ah, look at the magister’s hand. He just clenched and unclenched a fist. I wonder why.”

“As if I care.” Finally a reaction!

Christ, I can feel her gaze boring into my back.

Awareness of the Valkyrie made him … restless. He had difficulty concentrating on anything Dixon was saying.

Just to add to his frustration, the fey and the Valkyrie had begun speaking that language, the one he’d failed to get translated. Yet he knew they were talking about him.

When he and the doctor moved on, the Valkyrie called out in English, “Yo, Dekko, who do I gotta blow around here to get a shower?”

His shoulders stiffened, and he almost answered, “Fegley,” but somehow he stifled the retort and continued on—another victory for his iron will.

But once clear of the Valkyrie’s cell, Declan found himself still preoccupied. With a feigned glance at his watch, he told the doctor, “We’ll review the rest of the prisoners later. Your appointment begins soon.”

“They still need to transfer and prep the patient. Besides, we haven’t even gotten to the berserker yet.”

“Berserker?” She’d piqued his curiosity. The Valkyrie and her sister had spoken of one that first night. The Order had little intel on the berserkers, because they were exceedingly rare and most were mortal.

“Apparently, he was captured in the presence of other miscreats. He’s as strong as any of the prime males in the Lore, and he tests out as deathless.”

“An immortal? Then he’s an anomaly. Let’s see him.”

As they approached another crowded cell, one inmate caught his attention, a big bastard who stood apart from the others.

When he met Declan’s gaze, his jaw slackened and his green irises flickered, as though a flashlight shone behind them.

Why does he look at me like he knows me? The second prisoner to do so.

And more, this male seemed familiar to him.

No, no, Declan would never forget one of these beings. His heart began to pound—that wasn’t entirely true. Had this one been there the night Declan had been tortured? Come into his parents’ living room when he’d been unconscious?

Dixon frowned at the tension between them. “This is the berserker, Brandr.”

“You don’t recognize me, do you?” the male asked. “Good. That means we still have time.” His phrasings were modern, but his accent had an odd resonance.

“What are you talking about?”

“If you’ve captured a Valkyrie named Regin, you must stay away from her.” His eyes flickered even more. This was obviously very important to him.

So Brandr and the Valkyrie knew each other? Since berserkers were so rare, he might be the very one that Regin and Nïx had spoken of.

The berserker Regin had longed for. Declan clenched his fists. “You think to order me?”

“Heed my warning, Aidan.”

Declan tensed at that name. “What did you call me?”

“Your name, brother.”

Declan turned to the wide-eyed doctor. “Put him in the schedule, Dixon. He’s a level-four candidate.”

She gave him a surprised look. That meant a round of their harshest experiments, including vivisection.

Brandr noticed the look. “What the hell are you doing, Aidan?”

“Schedule it now.” When she scurried away, Declan approached the glass. “I’ve encountered many of your kind, and one thing remains the same, no matter what species or faction or breed. Deceit. You live and breathe trickery. I don’t know your aim—”

“My aim is to escape this place with you and that glowing Valkyrie in tow.”

“You think to take me as your hostage?”

Shoulders back, the male said, “I think to take you as my kinsman.”

“What the hell are you talking about—”

“Fight!” someone down the ward yelled. Other inmates joined in, “Fight, fight!”